


february 2018

by loonyBibliophile



Series: new traditions (a life for you and me) [6]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Riverdale Events, Valentine's Day, fall in love with riverdale, fallinlovewithriverdale, riverdaleevents, theme one: sweet love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 19:18:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17772695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyBibliophile/pseuds/loonyBibliophile
Summary: They hadn’t talked about the kiss. But they hadn’tnottalked about it either. Betty didn’t think Jughead was avoiding the subject, and she didn’t think he’d forgotten, it just… had yet to come up. She was trying to take this concept in stride. She knew better than anyone what Jughead had struggled with growing up, his issues with trust and abandonment, and she knew her own struggles and failings and, yes, this would probably take some time to work out.ORJughead surprises Betty for Valentine's day. The final installment of this series!





	february 2018

**Author's Note:**

> i mention powell's, a real bookstore in portland, a LOT in this chapter. i say things like 'the gold room' and 'the blue room' and i just wanted to take a moment to say that this is just how powell's is organized! there are a number of sections, and each section has a color, so saying the colors of the rooms is like saying 'the non fiction section' or the like. just in case anyone gets confused!

They hadn’t talked about the kiss. But they hadn’t _not_ talked about it either. Betty didn’t think Jughead was avoiding the subject, and she didn’t think he’d forgotten, it just… had yet to come up. She was trying to take this concept in stride. She knew better than anyone what Jughead had struggled with growing up, his issues with trust and abandonment, and she knew her own struggles and failings and, yes, this would probably take some time to work out. 

But, after their New Year’s kiss, Betty was finally willing to admit she wanted it to work out. She _really_ wanted it to work out. She’d known there was an ‘it’ for awhile, slowly growing over the past year. Betty wasn’t completely oblivious. It had been just over a year since they’d promised to find new traditions, new ways to celebrate. Essentially, they’d made a deal to build a life together. There was an implied permanence there, even if the nature of their relationship had been, and still was, uncertain. 

She hadn’t talked about it much, even with Jughead, who knew basically everything there was to know about her, but love scared Betty, right down to her core. She’d spent her entire early life, all the years she was meant to be learning how to be a person, watching her fanatical parents and their tumultuous marriage, and all the ways it messed up her and her sister. And Polly wasn’t a shining example of loving relationships either, barely holding it together as a single mom, dating dirtbags, and only sometimes kind of willing to talk to Betty. So how was Betty supposed to love someone, be with someone, when she’d never seen love _work_ until she moved away to college? 

Jughead’s home life had been just as bad, if not worse. Were they just doomed to repeat the mistakes they spent their whole lives watching their family members make?

Betty sighed, shaking her head to clear it of any errant thoughts, and went back to finishing the February spread in her bullet journal. She was running a little late, the month having begun a few days before, but she’d been distracted by a combination of school work, submissions, and helping Jughead edit a manuscript. As she wrote out important dates on her month layout, she tapped a pen thoughtfully on the square for February 14th. Back when she and Jughead had made their promise, he’d refused to celebrate Valentines Day, but now Betty almost wondered if he wasn’t planning something. She’d spotted him having way more clandestine conferences with Cheryl, Veronica, and Toni, numerous hushed one on one conversations with Kevin, and most mysteriously the other night around 3am she’d woken up to use the bathroom, and Jughead had been hunched over the printer, shoving sheets of something into a manilla envelope. 

So, just in case, she was working on a gift for him. The problem was that she couldn’t think of anything she thought worked. Ever the researcher, she’d even googled it, but ‘romantic gifts for men’ had been a wash, and she wasn’t expecting ‘valentine gift for someone you might be dating but you aren’t sure’ to be very fruitful either. Betty knew, of course, she could ask one of her friends or roommates for advice, but she wanted to do this herself. She was scrolling down her pinterest feed, working on her novel inspiration board, when an advertisement for icing popped up, and she realized the perfect idea was in front of her the whole time. 

She would _bake_ Jughead something. He loved her food, especially her baking. Betty would bake him something, something impressive. She even knew what she’d make. She’d been meaning to tackle them for awhile, and impressing Jughead was as good a reason as any, if not better. 

Betty would make Jughead the French classic. The illustrious, the terrifying, the delicious macaron. 

The unfortunate thing about already living with your sort-of maybe boyfriend, is that you couldn’t practice a surprise and still have it be a surprise. Every time Betty stepped into the kitchen to try and make a practice batch of macarons, Jughead magically reappeared in the apartment from whatever he’d been off doing. While she was always glad to see him, the timing was a little bit maddening. They were doing this weird dance of both knowing they were probably planning something, and trying not to bring up the kiss, and also trying to maintain their normal camaraderie. 

On the actual day of February 14th, Betty woke up at 5am. Having been up late finishing as much homework as possible, so she could enjoy a few days with Jughead, she was groggy, exhausted, and cranky. But if she wanted to produce a plate of macarons before Jughead crawled out of bed, the early hour was necessary. So she plugged headphones into her phone, put on some music, pulled multiple recipes up on her laptop set on the breakfast bar, and got to work. 

By the time 8am rolled around, Betty was exhausted. She’d had three cups of coffee, cried out of frustration twice, had one ruined bowl of french meringue in the sink, and one hopefully successful bowl doled out into small circles on parchment, drying before she put them in the oven. While she was sitting on the counter, watching a timer on her phone and eating apple slices with peanut butter, Kevin emerged from his bedroom with damp hair and a towel around his waist. Betty smiled and waved, pulling her headphones off. 

“And what have you been working on so fervently this morning, Miss Cooper?” Kevin asked playfully, walking towards the kitchen. 

“I’m making macarons.” Betty shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, and took a sip of her fourth cup of coffee. 

“B, I heard your alarm go off at five am. Don’t pull this ‘casual’ shit with me.”

“Okay, first off, why were you awake at 5? Actually,” Betty frowned, tilting her head “why are you awake now?”

“It’s Joaquin and I’s first Valentine’s day and we’re going to brunch with his grandparents, and I’m hideously, hideously nervous.” Kevin admitted with a sigh. 

“But you guys were together last year this time, weren’t you?” Betty scrunched her face in thought. 

“Not officially. We hadn’t had ‘the talk’ yet, so we were technically still just screwing around. Plus, his grandparents, Betty! They practically raised him!” Kevin’s eyebrows shot towards his hair line as the stress clearly overtook him. Betty slid off the counter, resting a hand on her friend’s shoulder. 

“It’s gonna go great, Kev. Joaquin adores you, and you’re basically a potential in law’s wet dream. You dress nice, you’re neat, you have a good family, you’re at a good school.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear anything after Betty fucking Cooper uttered the words ‘in law’s wet dream’. Who are you? Have you been spending too much time with Cheryl?” Kevin’s voice was playful, his concern forgotten for now. 

“To be honest, probably, and I mean that as lovingly and as affectionately as possible.” Betty said with a laugh. 

“God, so true. Now seriously, what the hell are you doing?” Kevin quirked an eyebrow, and Betty sighed, knowing she had no choice but to tell him. 

“I’m making Jughead macarons. For Valentine’s day. We kissed on New Years and we haven’t talked about it, but I’m pretty sure there’s something there, and I just wanted to get him something amazing, but I couldn’t think of a good gift. So. I’m baking.”

“You’re baking a notoriously difficult french dessert for the first time ever on a handful of hours of sleep? You’re a powerhouse, B. Also, I already knew you two made out.” Kevin grinned, looking borderline evil, and Betty threw a balled up paper towel at him. 

“What! How?” she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Jughead told me.” Kevin said, clearly gloating about the fact that he knew things she didn’t. “By the way, you should wear your hair down today.” he added cryptically, starting back towards his bedroom. 

“Huh? Why?” Betty made a face at her friend and roommate. 

“Because he likes it when you wear it down, obviously. Come on, B. Keep up.” Kevin grinned and winked before vanishing behind his door. 

Betty looked confused a moment more, then smiled quietly to herself and finished her apple slices, just before the timer on her phone went off. Crossing her fingers and saying a prayer to nothing in particular, she slid the sheets of hopefully soon to be macarons into the oven, and set another timer. Then she set to work on the chocolate mousse she was making to fill the macarons. They were white chocolate flavored, but she’d dyed them as red as she could get them. She’d wanted to make them heart shaped, but then decided that was probably an unrealistic goal for the first time she made something, so she’d opted instead for traditional circles. While she was whipped the mousse, her pajama shirt covered in a mix of cocoa powder, almond flour, and splatters of heavy cream, the doorbell rang. 

“Just a minute.” she called out, turning off her mixer and setting it to the side. She dusted her hands off on a kitchen towel, and headed for the door. When she opened it, she was taken aback to a delivery man with a hand truck literally covered in bouquets of roses. 

“I have a delivery for Miss Veronica Lodge?” the man said, sounding tired. Betty didn’t blame him. 

“That’s my roommate. She’s asleep, do you want me to go get her?”

“No, I’ve been instructed to leave the roses in the living room if it isn’t Miss Lodge who opens the door. The gifter wants her to be ‘as surprised as possible, if possible’.” The man repeated from memory, rolling his eyes a little. Betty smiled, already positive the roses were from Cheryl, and knowing Toni was probably receiving the same treatment elsewhere.

“Here, I’ll hold the door for you.” Betty offered with a smile, stepping out of the way and letting the delivery man push the hand truck into the entryway. Once he unloaded all the flowers, he waved goodbye and headed out. Betty smiled again, and took a moment to arrange the vases, which she noted now there were twelve of. A dozen dozen roses. That was Cheryl for you. One bouquet had a glittery red envelope tucked in it, and Betty left that one closest to Veronica’s door. 

It was nearing ten thirty in the morning when the timer on Betty’s phone went off again. The mousse was done, waiting in the fridge to be scooped into the little sandwich cookies. Betty turned off the oven, but left the macarons in, just like she was supposed to, and slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower so she could get ready for the rest of the day. Once she was showered, and her hair was dried and down in loose waves, she checked the oven quickly before getting dressed, and cursed quietly to herself. Almost all of the macarons had cracked. She must not have let them dry for long enough, probably because of how damp and cold the air in Portland was this time of year. They would still taste fine, assuming she didn’t screw up, but she’d wanted them to look good too. Perfect glossy circles of crisp meringue, with a dollop of delicious chocolate mousse nestled between. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, and turned around, heading back to get dressed, only to be startled by Jughead standing behind her. He’d clearly just woken up, wearing a pair of worn red flannel pajama pants, a white tank top, and his hair mussed from sleep. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked with a laugh, voice still morning-rough. 

“Nothing. I’m doing absolutely nothing! Good bye!” Betty said, panicked, before nodding and darting into her bedroom. She frowned at her clock. She couldn’t believe Jughead was up before noon. He’d still been awake, typing away in the living room, when she went to bed at 1am the night before. She took a deep breath, told herself she’d work it out, and focused on getting dressed. For her outfit, she’d picked a simple, dusty rose pink colored dress with a bow at the waist and a swirly skirt, a pair of warm, cream colored tights, and the most precious cardigan she’d ever seen. She’d found it a few weeks back in Buffalo Exchange and just had to pick it up. It was white, with red piping and buttons, and red velvet elbow patches shaped like hearts. Was it a little on the nose? Maybe. But Betty had always liked dressing for the holidays. It was fun, playful. Steeling herself, Betty left her bedroom. The coast was clear, Jughead having returned to his room, and she breathed a sigh of relief that she could finish her work in secret. Mostly, anyway. 

While Betty filled each macaron with mousse, she did her best not to feel disheartened by the cracks on the glossy cookie shells, but her long morning was getting the best of her, and her eyes watered slightly as she arranged a red cake plate with all the macarons. 

“It doesn’t matter, Betty.” she mumbled quietly to herself “They’re cookies, they will still taste good, it doesn’t matter that they aren’t… perfect.” she practically spits the last word, sighing and digging the heels of her hands into her eyes. 

“Hey, Betts, do you want to-” she heard Jughead’s voice begin speaking, then drop into silence as he approached her. “Hey. Betty, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked softly, coming up and putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

“Nothing, it’s fine, I’m just being silly.” she waved a hand around. 

“If you’re upset, it’s not silly. And you can’t get mad at me for saying that, because you literally told me to.” he said with a quiet laugh, rubbing her arm affectionately in an effort to soothe her. 

“How dare you be such a good listener.” Betty chuckled, swiping at her cheeks. “I made you macarons. But it’s the first time I’ve ever made them, and I wanted them to be perfect, but they’re almost all cracked. And I know you won’t care, and there’s no reason to be upset, but—” she stopped, shrugging and looking up at him. Jughead smiled at her softly and pulled her into a hug, pressing an unexpected kiss to the crown of her head. 

“You’re right. I don’t care that they’re cracked. What I do care about is that my best friend clearly woke up at the ass crack of dawn to do something nice for me, because she’s the most amazing and generous person who’s ever graced our sorry little planet. And as far as I’m concerned, your macarons look amazing, and I’m sure they’re fucking delicious. In fact, I’m so excited about them, I’m going to take a picture of the plate before I eat them, and nothing you do or say will stop me.” Jughead grinned, squeezing Betty’s waist and then pulling out his phone and snapping a picture of the plate of macarons. 

“Thank you, Juggie.” Betty said softly, smiling up at him. He grinned, and then shoved an entire macaron into his mouth. 

“Oh my god.” he said before he even finished chewing “Betts, this is fucking excellent.” 

“I’m glad you like them” Betty said with a giggle, watching him eat another. 

“Betty,” he said very seriously, putting a hand on each of her shoulders “I love them.” 

Jughead holds her gaze for a moment, his eyes wide and slightly alarmed. Something awkward and unnamed passes between them, and Betty wonders if, maybe, if they were other people, people who had lead easier lives, he wouldn’t have followed that with an ‘I love _you_. She thought, just maybe, there was a part of him that wanted to say it anyone. She answers his silence by reaching up, and squeezing one of his hands with her own. He swallows, heavy and slow, and then smiles. 

“You look beautiful, by the way.” he says quietly, grinning shyly as he reached out and tugged a lock of her hair. Mentally, Betty set a reminder to buy Kevin lunch later that week. “I uh, I have some…. errands to run. But will you meet me at Powell’s in, say, an hour?”

Betty gives him a suspicious look, raising an eyebrow, but Jughead just looks at her, pleadingly. She smiles, and nods. 

“Yeah, sounds good, Jug.”

“Okay, great. I’ll see you there. Meet me in the gold room okay?” he grins, looking excited, and vanishes out the door with a bag over his shoulder Betty had only just now noticed. A few moments later, while Betty is neatening up the kitchen, just for something to do, her phone buzzes with a notification, informing her she was tagged on instagram. Clicking through, she smiled upon seeing the picture Jughead had taken of his macarons, and a simple three word caption. 

_best. day. ever._

She liked the photo, smiling as she slid her phone back into her pocket. 

Over the forty five minutes or so Betty waited before leaving, Veronica emerged from her room to find their living room covered in a hundred and forty four roses, all in elegant crystal vases, and promptly burst into tears. Betty had heard Veronica rustling around, and had camped out with her phone ready, recording the moment Veronica stepped through the door so she could post it on instagram and tag Cheryl and Toni. It was absurd, and extravagent, and not the sort of thing Betty herself went in for, but it was so very, very Cheryl, and absolutely the sort of thing Veronica loved. As evidenced by the fact that she now stood in her silk pajamas, dialing Cheryl on facetime while sobbing. Noting the time, Betty kissed Veronica on the cheek and slipped out the front door. 

Once Betty made her way into the gold room of Powell’s, she looked around, trying to find Jughead. He was nowhere to be seen, but something caught her eye. Toni’s friend Fangs, standing near the graphic novels display, holding a piece of paper with her name scrawled on it.

“Fangs?” she wandered over, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh! Sweet, you’re here. Jughead said he is here, but he can’t see you yet, so he told me to stand here and wait for you, and then give you these.” Fangs reached behind him, producing a handful of white daisies tied together with a red ribbon and some sort of note hanging from it, and a strawberry italian soda from the cafe. Her favorite flowers, and her favorite drink. Betty smiled.

“Did he say anything else?” Betty asked curiously. 

“Just to make sure you read that note.” Fangs jerked his thumb at the piece of thick paper hanging from the flowers. “Good luck, Cooper.” he said with a wave, before vanishing into the science fiction section. 

The note attached to her flowers is short and typewritten. 

_Something is waiting for you  
In your least favorite book  
In your favorite room._

Betty’s eyes lit up immediately. That’s why Jughead hadn’t actually been at the coffee shop. This was a scavenger hunt, and this note was her first clue. It was easy enough to solve. Betty’s favorite room in Powell’s was the blue room, where all the classic literature, poetry, and literary criticism was. And her least favorite book to be found in that room would have to be Homer’s _Odyssey_. Jughead had listened to any number of her rants about how there was no reason to use such a tired and misogynist text to teach the hero’s journey when literally every book on the planet employed the same general arc. Quickly, Betty snapped a picture of the note, flowers, and drink, before heading off in the direction of the blue room. Once there, and swung around to the back corner, where the classics and foreign language editions were, her eyes skimming for copies of the Odyssey. She spotted a couple, and one was pulled out just a little, the spine jutting past the other copies. Slipping it from the shelf, she leafed through the pages until she found another note.

_One of the only hints that The Odyssey was once epic poetry  
Are Homer’s epithets  
Like the phrase ‘the wine dark sea’  
Your next hint is in a book by an author who takes these classics  
(both works and phrases)  
And updates them more to your liking._

This clue through Betty for a loop for a minute or two. She stood in the back corner of the blue room, enjoying the quiet this part of the store usually afforded, along with the smell of dust and old eighties paperbacks. It wasn’t until she was mindlessly scanning the classics shelves and spotted a copy of the complete works of Sophocles that the answer occurred to her. Jughead had to be talking about Anne Carson. Her book _An Autobiography of Red_ had been assigned reading in one of her and Jug’s first classes together, and they’d both loved her unconventional style and interesting take on the myth of Hercules. Betty headed for the poetry aisles, just a few shelves over, and scanned the alphabetical sections for “CA”. Before she found the proper section, she spotted a spotlight copy of the book in question sitting propped up on an eye level shelf. She picked it up, leafing through it until she found another clue, then after a moment’s thought tucked the book under her arm to purchase later. It was part of a memory now, after all. 

The next clues took Betty all over Powell’s. The green room for a recent best seller, a humorous jaunt into the orange room for not one, not two, but three clues in cookbooks, including one about cooking with cannabis. She went all the way up to the purple room, then the red room, and back down into the rose room where she stood now, holding the oldest, most worn copy of a Nancy Drew book in the store as she read what was, apparently, her final note. 

_As our mystery draws to an end,  
Why don’t we take things back to where they began?  
See you soon, Nancy Drew_. 

“Where they began” referred to the gold room, of course. Not just because that’s where she’d gotten the first clue, but it’s also the first place she and Jughead had ever actually hung out together. Early on in their stay at the dorms, they’d been chatting after class about a reading assignment, and ended up wandering over the Powell’s together to resolve an argument over book editions, and then spent the next several hours in the coffee shop of the gold room, drinking coffee, munching croissants, and debating various things about literature. It was a fond and warm memory. Betty tucked the copy of Nancy Drew under her arm, along with the Anne Carson book she’d picked up earlier and the gag gift self help book Jughead had hidden her purple room note about bonding over their shitty families in. 

The gold room was, as always, a little crowded, but Betty made her way back to the coffee shop without too much trouble. It was a holiday, technically, but it was also a weekday, and Powell’s was never as busy during the day during the week as it was after 5 or on weekends. Sitting in the very back of the cafe, at a counter seat by the window, she could see Jughead, nervously fiddling with his phone and glancing around the room. She made her way over to him, calling his name when she got closer.

“Juggie.” she said as she approached. He turned and stood, his face a mix of nerves and hope, and she immediately barrelled into him, hugging him tightly. 

“Happy Valentine’s day, Betty.” Jughead said quietly, offering her a shy, nervous smiles. 

“Jughead Jones. This is the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.” Betty said, her voice low and soft as she held Jughead’s face in her hands. She bites her lip, weighing the pros and cons of what she’s thinking of doing, and then decides to just go for it. 

“I love you.” Betty whispers, and then leans up to kiss Jughead before he has a chance to reply. He grasps her waist, and his hands are warm as he pulls her against him, and it’s different from their New Years kiss, but it’s also not different at all, because Jughead is still solid and warm, and still smells like soap and espresso, and he still tastes like carmex and home. When he finally pulls away, she feels dazed and dizzy, practically leaning on Jughead for support. 

“I love you too.” he offers softly, after a pause, looking at her with wide, gentle eyes. 

“Oh.” Betty says with a slight and silly smile on her face, gazing up at him adoringly. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Jughead chuckles, smirking. He notices the books under Betty’s arm and laughs fully, moving to take them for her “Are you buying these?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yes!” she says, one part playful and one part defensive. “They’re all part of a very, very important memory. But nothing could make me buy another copy of the Odyssey, no matter how much I love you.” she stuck out her tongue, her heart racing at the ease she told him, once again, how she felt. Jughead smirked again, handing her back her books and looping an arm around her waist. 

“Now _that_ sounds like a challenge if I’ve ever heard one.” he said with a laugh. 

“Only if you plan on spending the rest of your life trying.” Betty snorted, shaking her head. Jughead pulled her against him suddenly, capturing her lips in another kiss. 

“Gladly.” he whispered, his voice serious enough to make Betty flush and stare down at her toes. “Now come on, let’s go to the Roxy. The Lord of the Fries is calling my name.”

“That sounds amazing.” Betty said, leaning into his side, already fantasizing about the Roxy’s excellent selection of sandwiches. 

“Great. It’s a date.” Jughead laughs, leaning down to kiss her again. Betty laughs too, burying her face in his chest. 

“The first of many.” she mumbles, taking his hand so they can make their way to the register and head out. 

As they stroll down Burnside, Betty’s Powell’s bag in Jughead’s other hand, Betty uses her free hand to post a few pictures of the notes and her flowers, as well as a quick selfie she’d snuck of her kissing Jughead on the cheek, to her instagram. 

For the caption, she just types “best. day. ever.”.

**Author's Note:**

> here it is.... the end! i hope you guys enjoyed this little series!


End file.
